Page 57 of Hot Nights in Morocco
“Charlotte, bird,” he croons, stroking my hair with an unsteady hand. “It’s time to play another game with Daddy…”
Chapter Thirty
“Charlie, wake up!”
I hear his voice, but I’m still trapped beneath the crushing weight of my nightmare. Icy tendrils have wrapped themselves tightly around my wrists, holding me down from the light, from the present. From Jake.
With a cry, I wrench myself free and open my eyes. Jake is looming over me, his hands on my shoulders. He looks worried. Shaken loose from his habitual cool. “You scared the shit out of me. Do you always dream like that?”
“No,” I lie. My voice is woozy with sleep, but his presence is chasing away the last remnants of my nightmare. “It’s your fault. That drink was too strong.”
He raises a questioning eyebrow. “Liar. You didn’t touch a drop. You were too busy seducing me, remember?’
I manage a weak smile. “Ah, yes… I think. Was I any good?”
“Not bad, Books, not bad. But I daren’t mention a bonus. Not after last time.”
“You can be my bonus, then,” I say, reaching for him, and we lose ourselves in each other all over again.
But this time it’s my desolation that is spurring us on.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Did you confide in Max about us?”
I’m lying in Jake’s arms, with my cheek resting on his chest. He’s running his fingers lightly up and down my naked arm, his rock-hard thigh wedged between my legs. My body is aching, my mind a riotous mess. I’m being held hostage by this constant state of euphoria, and it’s all his fault.
“Max was onto us from the start. From the first moment we met.” Jake shifts position and slides his arm behind his head. His dark eyes are dull with exhaustion and his black hair screams “freshly fucked,” but he’s still the best looking man I’ve ever been to bed with. I’ve been ruined forevermore by this dirty-talking sex machine.
“If only you knew what I was really thinking about you that day,” I say teasingly.
He angles his head to glare at me. “Oh?”
“Don’t make me say it.” I shoot him a sheepish grin. “You’ll only kick me out of bed.”
“I doubt it. Like I said, I’m not done with you yet.”
I swallow quickly, my eyes darting over his face for more reassurance. “Max is very astute for a chauvinist pig,” I say, changing the subject.
“Don’t be fooled—he’s far smarter than anyone gives him credit for.” Unhooking his arm from my shoulder, Jake reaches over to the nightstand for a bottle of water.
“Was he very screwed up when your mother left?”
“How the hell do you know about that?” Jake lowers the bottle wearing the same expression I’ve seen him unleash on the press a hundred times.
Angry. Violated.Wary.
“Can’t remember,” I lie, backtracking quickly.
“Rachel,” he snaps, guessing in one. “How the fuck does she know? She’s my assistant, not my stalker. Unless there’s some big revelation in the works?”
“Max,” I say in a small voice.
“Max?” A flash of surprise darts across his face. “He confided in her, did he? That’s interesting.”
“You’re avoiding the question. I’ve never heard you talk about your family.”
“We’re talking about Max, aren’t we?”
